Progeny
by anachronismism
Summary: What if Batman and Wonder Woman had a daughter? What if he pushed her away, and she grew to resent him? Based on my love for Batman Beyond and Batman X Wonder Woman. (Rewriting in progress)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the DC Universe

A/N: Special thanks to BatTitan, whose stories served as my inspiration. Thanks for letting me write this! Please check out her stories :)

Chapter 1

Everyone leaves a trail. Every person has the power to influence another's life. Some of us leave trails of gloom; others, of joy. Some leave trails of hate and bitterness; others, trails of love and harmony. Some leave trails of cynicism and pessimism; others, of faith and optimism. Some leave trails of criticism and resignation; others, trails of gratitude and hope. How about you? What kinds of trails have you left? You can never really know how much you can affect a person's life. You can never really see how much you can make or break a person's identity.

I never met my paternal grandparents. I know they were good people, but they can never fathom how much their death scarred my father. I know they tried their best to leave this world and their son with a sense of good and justice, but they also left their son to breed in resentment. The people around him tried to help him; we all did, but he was just too stubborn. He spiraled into depression, anger and bitterness. There is only one thing I really learned from my father; Hurt leads to anger. Anger leads to misery. Misery leads to bitterness, and bitterness, like cancer, devours its victims.

Believe me, I tried to help him too, but don't mistake these feelings for love, because they aren't. All the emotions I have directed towards my dear old _dad_ are anything but love. I admit, I _did_ love the old man, but that was a long time ago. I tried to take care of Bruce. I really did. When I was younger, I believed that I could break the walls he built around himself. I always tried to get him out of the manor. I constantly kept him company. I gave him all the affection a child could ever give. I even made sure he drank all of his medicine at the right time. Just like a good little daughter. Imagine a tiny four year old trying to make sense of an old man's vast collection of medicine bottles, arranging them, labeling them, and even making a schedule for them. I did all of that even if he barely acknowledged my existence. I even used to say I love you. Huh. Goes to show how naïve a child can be. At least it didn't take too long for me to grow up.

How old were you when you truly _grew up_? I don't mean standing on your own two feet, and working for a living. How old were you when you left the comforts of childhood, and actually saw the world like an adult? I grew up when I was seven. By then, I was old enough to go to boarding school, so Bruce packed my bags and shipped me off to Paris. Yes, Paris, France. He sent me to a boarding school a thousand light-years away from Gotham. Well, for a seven year old it _did_ feel like thousands of light-years away. God, I was so naïve back then, that it's beginning to disgust me. Naturally, I didn't want to leave; I did not want to leave _him_. What self-respecting daughter would want to leave her elderly father with a heart condition, who is set on secluding himself until the end of time, in a grim mansion? Of course no good daughter would let that happen, but I couldn't do anything about it. He didn't give me any say in his decision; he didn't give me a choice. He has this obsession for pushing away all the people who ever bother to care about him. So here he was, doing to me what he did to Aunt Barb, Uncle Tim, Uncle Dick, Uncle Clark, and all the other people who ever cared about him. How would you feel if your _only_ family was pushing you away? Of course I was hurt. I kept on asking myself why he was sending me away. I cried as I stepped out of my room, and down the stairs. I cried as I sat in the car on the way to the airport. I cried the whole time on the jet, until I finally blacked out from crying my eyes out. He didn't even bother to see me off. He _really_ is the world's _greatest_ dad. Words couldn't even _express_ the pain I felt. I felt alone in the world at seven. I was abandoned by the only family I had. I know that there are people who never even met their parents, but what would you rather have? Parents who unwillingly left you, who could do nothing about what happened to them, or parents who, out of their own will, cut the bonds they had with you? Which is less painful? Tell me. What would you choose? I've experienced both, so I'll tell you what I think. Even if I can't remember my mother, I probably feel more attached to her than my own _living _father. So, yeah. Bruce sending me away hurt. It hurt so much more than the longing I felt for my deceased mother. It hurt really bad, and really long, but eventually I got over it. As the cliché goes, time heals all wounds. I grew up. I learned that I should never expect anything from anyone, because they'll always just end up disappointing me. I learned that I shouldn't rely on anyone; because the only person you can really trust is yourself. I learned that in this world, we are all born alone, and inevitably, we die alone. I learned all this when I was seven.

Ah, boarding school. _Good times_; if you consider a good time as rotting your brains out. At least he sent me to a good co-ed school. I could have skipped a lot of grades thanks to the brains I inherited from that old coot, but my teachers and superiors believed that I was lacking _"motivation"_, so those dregs did not approve of me accelerating, since my _"emotional"_ and _"social"_ aspects were not _fully_ developed. They used to say, "We know you will excel, but we are concerned for your _emotional stability_." I could probably be in college by now, but they still deem that I was still lacking _"enthusiasm"_, and that I'm unbelievably cynical. Whatever. At least I'm going to graduate with flawless grades that could make _daddy_ proud. If you're wondering, my social life was all right, I guess. I am not some damaged little girl who despises human interaction. I can socially interact with another human being, like any other person. I have what you call _friends_; I even had a few boyfriends in middle school, but there's nothing like talking to people from Gotham when they had the time, especially Aunt Barb or Uncle Dick. I guess if you grow up early, people your age don't operate on the same wavelength as you. I felt more comfortable talking to people who were much, much older than me. Watching my schoolmates go home every break, seeing their families come to school events, and spending _every_ holiday _alone_, hurt. At first. Eventually, I got over it. I insisted to the headmaster that they stop reserving a seat for my father; he would never go out of the house for _anything_, and they should stop asking me if I would be returning to Gotham for the summer, or for any holiday, because that will _not_ happen anytime soon. They shouldn't even bother to phone the manor; he would _never_ pick up. The headmaster used to say that it was impossible that a father would purposely avoid contact with his own daughter, but sooner or later, he did listen to me.

By now, you're probably wondering who my mother _is_. Honestly, I don't know much about her. Her name was Diana Prince, and she died when I was about a year old. Uncle Clark said she died in a natural disaster on an island in the Mediterranean. They never told me the name of that island. Uncle Clark said that none of them knew she was pregnant, and that it was Bruce's child. My mother told Uncle Clark to give me to my father. When Uncle Clark did, he said that it was impossible, until the paternity test results came. I really don't know what my mother was like. I don't even have a picture of her. All my father would say about her is that she was a remarkable woman. Uncle Clark said that I looked just like her. Once, I tried researching about my mother, but I found nothing. It makes me wonder; who _was_ my mother?

I'm currently on a jet to Gotham. I have _no_ idea why I'm going _home_. No, I have absolutely _no_ idea why I'm going back to Gotham. All I know for certain is, Gotham is definitely _not_ my home.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the DC Universe

A/N: Special thanks to BatTitan, whose stories served as my inspiration. Thanks for letting me write this! Please check out her stories :)

Chapter 2

"Miss Wayne, we've landed." The voice of the Wayne-Powers-employed stewardess woke her from her sleep. She stood up from her seat, and looked out of the tiny window. The stewardess handed her the only piece of luggage she brought.

She stepped out of the jet and was met by the driver Derek Powers sent to pick her up. She still couldn't believe how she just called his office. His secretary didn't believe her at first when she said she was Bruce Wayne's daughter. Powers overheard his secretary on his way to a meeting, but since he is a conniving little imp, he took the call. He was simply amusing. She knew Derek Powers should never be trusted; she still wonders if she really should have called him. She even wondered if she should still be alive right now. She _was_ the sole heir to the Wayne fortune; so killing her off would make it easier for him to take full control of the company. The most entertaining part was that he insisted she call him _Uncle_ Derek.

"Uhm. All right. _Uncle_ Derek, send a private jet. I want to spend my summer in Gotham."

"Of course! Of course! I'll send for our _best_ company jet. When do you want the jet to arrive?"

"I want to be in Gotham as soon as possible."

"Let's see. The jet land there by 11:00 pm, Paris time, and you will arrive here by 10 pm, Gotham time. Do you need anything else?"

"No. Thank you."

"No problem. I will _personally_ see to it that you will be back home in no time."

"Miss Wayne, we're here." Her mind must have drifted off; they were already there. She gazed at stately Wayne Manor through the tinted window of the car. It was much more foreboding than it was eight years ago, but she could not deny the fact that it was _once_ her home, even if it felt like ages ago. What was she even doing here? She didn't exactly have many happy memories in that house, or even that city. She stepped out of the car and examined at the gate. "Do you need anything else Miss Wayne?" She shook her head. "No. You can go now."

As the car that brought her there was probably on its way back to the Wayne Tower, she stepped closer and began to wonder if she should just scale the gate, instead of ringing the doorbell, and use her gymnastics, along with the countless other skills she picked up to pass the time in boarding school. The front door would be unlocked anyway. So she threw her luggage over the gate, and lithely scaled it, and effortlessly landed on the other side. She observed the present state of the manor. The house looked even worse than it was eight years ago. Back then, the garden was slightly tolerable; now, it was a mix of a wasteland _and_ a swamp. She sighed as she picked up her suitcase and made her way to the door. She was at the doorstep now. It really has been eight years. She could clearly remember being too short to even reach the doorknob. She sighed. The whole manor seemed slightly smaller. It was still big, but back then, it was huge, gigantic even. She laughed at her thoughts. Of course the house would seem smaller; she grew. The door she was staring at suddenly opened, revealing a much older Bruce with the deepest frown etched on his face and a cane in his hand. "Who are you, and what are you doing on my property? Get out. _Now_," he growled.

She laughed. She laughed out loud. She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help it. She shouldn't even be surprised. The man standing before her hasn't seen his _own_ daughter for eight years, and he barely even looked at her during the seven years she lived in his house. Of course he wouldn't recognize her. He never made any contact with her since she left for Paris.

The old man was surprised by this teenage girl's reaction. Any normal person would not dare to break into the manor, let alone laugh when he orders them to leave. Is this girl delusional? Who is she?

When she had finally begun to stop laughing, Ace ran up to her and tackled her, licking the life out of her. She laughed even more.

"Woaw. Down, boy, down. Sit," she said in between her giggles. Surprisingly, Ace obeyed. He sat at her order, wagging his tail the whole time. Who is this girl? She even managed to get Ace to obey her. She patted the dog's head, and then straightened herself up. She looked at the old man in the eyes and said, "When did you get a dog, _Dad_?"

Recognition was evident on his face. It took him long enough. "Antianara, what are you doing here?" She laughed once more. He seemed even more enraged when he found that it was his _daughter_ who was attempting to break into the manor.

"What's wrong Dad? Am I not allowed to go ho – to visit?" She smiled in an attempt to hide the frustration she felt towards herself. She almost said home.

"How did you get here?" Her smile grew wider. She just _loved_ the look on his face when he finally recognized that his _only_ daughter was standing before him. He began to wonder if his daughter has a psychological disorder.

"I guess Paris just wasn't far enough, huh?" Her smile just kept growing. His frown deepened. She wasn't answering any of his questions. "Answer me, Antianara. How did you get here?" She swore she saw his eyebrow twitch in irritation.

"I called the company, _Daddy_. Powers sent me a jet." Now her smile lessened. She knew Derek Powers was someone Bruce didn't want her to ever have contact with. Bruce's grip on his cane tightened, and his glare intensified tenfold. Why Powers? Of all the people, why did she call Derek Powers? He sighed. There was nothing he could do about it.

"Since you're already here, welcome home." Antianara stifled a laugh. Did he just use the words _welcome_ and_ home_ in the same sentence? But once she entered the manor, her giggles stopped. She never knew it was possible, but did the house get darker? She didn't mind the dark; she found it oddly comforting, but she was a somewhat surprised at how things have changed. Earlier as she sped through Gotham, its streets were immensely unfamiliar. Wayne Manor was now like a stranger to her, Gotham too. It _has_ been eight years, but she silently hoped that things wouldn't change that much. She knew that was utterly foolish of her. The only thing constant in this world is change. She should've expected that things wouldn't be the same. It was irrational of her for even thinking that things would be the same as the day she left.

Bruce silently watched her as she looked around the house as Ace lightly padded beside her. She looked just like Diana.

"What are _you_ looking at?" Antianara challenged, as she noticed Bruce observing her. "Do _not_ use that tone with me," Bruce snapped. She smiled. She simply enjoyed provoking her father's anger. "Alright then, _Dad_. May I be excused to my room?" she said as sarcastically as possible. Bruce just walked away, aggravated by his daughter's actions.

Antianara made her way up the stairs. Soon enough she was in her room. She expected it to be dusty and worn down, but it was actually clean. It looked as if she never left. No. Impossible. She tried to dismiss those thoughts. Bruce never showed any attachment to her whatsoever.

She began to unpack her suitcase. She didn't have many clothes aside from her uniform; she didn't find the need for everyday clothes, so it wasn't long before she finished unpacking.

She walked to the window and gazed at the distant city lights. She checked the time, 12:15 am. She silently stepped out of her room, and made her way to the garage. There, she spotted the only hover car her father owned; he insisted on keeping all of his old, obsolete "automobiles", and bought only one technologically advanced car. As she was about to open the car door, the sound of approaching steps caught her attention.

"What are you doing?" It was Bruce. She wasn't surprised that he caught her; she was surprised that it took him that _long_. He must really be getting old.

"I'm going to visit Aunt Barb and probably Uncle Dick too. I'll be back in a few hours," she bluntly stated. Bruce was slightly surprised when her words didn't have a hint of sarcasm. She was just leaning on the car door with her arms crossed.

"Aren't you too young to drive?" he asked. She was just fifteen. "I know how to drive," she answered. "You just got home, and it's late. Just visit her tomorrow." Bruce could tell she was tired; she should already be experiencing the effects of jet lag. A familiar scene flashed through his head; she used to wander around the house in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep. "Do you want some sleeping pills?" he asked.

Did Bruce Wayne just sound like he cared? Wait, did he just say home? Antianara pushed those thoughts away, and answered, "No. I still have some." She sighed, then walked away saying, "Fine. I'll just go tomorrow." She didn't feel like arguing.

Antianara stepped into her bathroom, grabbed her bottle of sleeping pills, and downed one. Bruce was right; she was tired, but she couldn't sleep, even if she wanted to. Sleep was never easy for her, and staying awake all night left her _too_ much time with her thoughts. She wished she could just sleep like a normal person. She stared at her reflection on the mirror. She looked at her eyes. No, _his_ eyes. Everyone who knew Antianara and her father said that she had his eyes. She splashed some water on her face, and sighed. What was she doing there? She detests her father, and he probably loathes her existence. She began to consider abandoning her family name, and running away. But she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Was something keeping her from the freedom of starting life anew, free from the Wayne name? "Am I still attached to –?" she said to herself. She couldn't even finish her sentence. "No," she assured herself. The pills were finally taking effect. She crawled into bed, and waited for her drug-induced sleep to take over.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the DC Universe

A/N: Special thanks to BatTitan, whose stories served as my inspiration. Thanks for letting me write this! Please check out her stories :)

Chapter 3

Antianara was on a cab to the Police Department. Earlier that day, she called the offices of the Commissioners of the Gotham City Police Department and of the Bludhaven Police Department, and scheduled appointments. Today was not such a great day. She had to eat breakfast _and_ lunch in the manor, _and_ avoid _him_. She wanted to take the car, but Bruce wouldn't allow it; according to him, she was too young to drive. The weather was extremely hot; the kind of weather she hated the most. Most of all, her thoughts were a mess.

She finally arrived at her destination. She paid the taxi driver, stepped out of the car, and gazed at the building. It wasn't her first time there. She used to go there often to visit Barbara. She took the elevator to the top floor. Barbara's secretary was talking on the videophone when she stepped out of the lift. Antianara gestured if she could go inside now. The secretary shut the phone, and asked, "Are you Miss Wayne?" She nodded, and walked into Commissioner Gordon's office.

Barbara was busy doing paper work. She didn't look up until Antianara said, "Hey Aunt Barb, I'm your next appointment." Barbara recognized her voice. "Antianara Martha Wayne, what are you doing here?" She laughed and said, "Dad asked me the same thing."

"How long has it been since I've actually seen you, Ann?" Barbara asked; marveling at how much Antianara grew. "Eight years." Antianara sighed.

"It's been that long?" Barbara asked. It felt much shorter than that. "Yes, it has. How have you been Aunt Barb? How's Gotham?" Antianara asked. She was never comfortable asking about Gotham when she was in France.

"We've been good," Barbara answered. She didn't want to say that Gotham may look different, but inside, it barely changed. Antianara walked to the window, watching hover cars maneuver through the streets.

"How have you been?" Barbara asked. Antianara faced her saying, "Same as always." She smiled, but her smile wasn't a real smile. Barbara raised a brow at her answer. "Same as always?" Antianara sighed. Barb could see right through her. "I'm confused."

"Aunt Barb, I need your honest opinion," Antianara said. "Why am I here in Gotham?"

Barbara didn't know what to say. She always kept contact with Antianara, so she knew that Antianara resented Bruce, just as Tim, Dick, and she did. Bruce was not much of a father to her. She probably saw Dick as more of a father than Bruce. She also knew that Antianara never had any plans of returning to Gotham. So why was she here? Could she miss the old man?

"Do you really want to know what I think, Ann?" Barbara asked. Antianara nodded. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I think you miss Gotham and maybe even Bruce."

Barbara was right. She didn't want to hear it, especially that last one. Her gaze returned to the streets below. Was that what she really felt? Did she _still_ have affection for her so-called father? Was Gotham _really_ her home? She sighed heavily. "Thanks Aunt Barb," she said with a reluctant smile.

"I should go. I have an appointment at Bludhaven. I'll call you soon," Antianara said as she hugged Barbara. Barbara didn't say anything; she was never comfortable talking about Dick Grayson. Antianara waved goodbye and walked out of the office.

Antianara hailed another cab to take her to Bludhaven. As she sat in the backseat of the taxi, she remembered the times she visited Barbara, Dick, and Tim, as a child. Since their relationship with Bruce was _strained_, either a Wayne-Powers employee would take her, or Clark did. Before, she couldn't grasp why they broke off all their connections with each other, but now, she somewhat understood why. She tried to remember the stories they shared of the times when Bruce was desperate enough to call them, because he didn't know what to do with her. Bruce barely knew how to handle a baby, or a toddler for that matter. Dick always told Antianara that she was his favorite person, because she was the only one who managed to confound Bruce. She laughed at that thought.

"Hey lady, we're here." The cab driver's voice shook her out of her reverie. They were already at the Bludhaven Police Department. She paid the fare, and walked straight inside, telling them she had an appointment with Commissioner Grayson. They led her to straight to his office.

When she walked in, Dick looked like he was expecting her arrival. "Hi Uncle Dick," she said with a smile. "Hey kiddo! How have you been?"

"Same as always," Antianara replied. Same as always means that she was as hurt and bitter as any of them. Dick bore the greatest grudge against Bruce, but he was the most affectionate towards Antianara. "What brings you to Bludhaven? Last time I saw you, you were this small," Dick asked as he gestured how small Antianara was before. She meandered around the office as he sat at his desk. "I landed in Gotham last night, so I thought I would pay you guys a visit," she replied.

"Guys? Don't tell me you visited Barb or Tim before me?" Dick said as he feigned hurt. Antianara laughed, and then held her hands up in defense saying, "You caught me, but come on Uncle Dick. Aunt Barb is _in_ Gotham. If it makes you happy, I haven't seen Uncle Tim yet."

"Fine, I forgive you kiddo," Dick assured her. "But seriously, is something wrong? You usually visit when you have problems." He began to wonder what was she doing in Gotham. She always insisted that she would never go back.

"Uncle Dick! Am I not allowed to visit you? It _has_ been eight years since I've even been in this _continent_!" It was Antianara's turn to look offended. But Dick was right, something was wrong – everything. "Are you sure?" Dick persisted as he eyed Antianara.

Antianara sighed. She walked to the window, just as she did in Barbara's office, and watched the cars zoom by below. "You caught me, again." She looked at him and gave him a sad smile. "I don't know why I'm here."

Dick knew what she was pertaining to. He understood her more than Tim, _and_ Barbara ever could. Antianara has been staying in a foreign country for eight years with no plans of going back, so what made this year different? She was probably fed up of being alone; she was still just a kid. She probably longed for the people she considers as family; she missed her home. No matter how many times she denied it. But the biggest question was, did she miss Bruce? "I don't think you even _want_ to know, kiddo." Antianara sighed. Dick was right, she probably didn't. The truth always hurts.

"Uncle Dick, why do you hate Dad? Why do _we_ hate Dad?" she asked. Dick looked at the young girl in front of him, sighed, and said, "We have lots of reasons, and some of ours are different than yours. Maybe when you're older, we'll tell you _all_ about it." Antianara nodded.

"You still care for the old man?" Dick asked. Antianara's face paled. Antianara wondered if it was a question or a statement. Sometimes, blood is just really thicker than water. "You still do," Dick frankly stated.

Antianara was silent. She despised her father. There was _no_ way she cared for him. "No," she insisted. Dick knew she was in denial. He resented Bruce with every fiber of his being, but he could still understand her feelings. He felt the same way a long, long time ago. That emotional dilemma; Bruce was still _their_ father. Dick sighed.

"So, how long do you plan on staying?" he asked. Antianara shrugged. "Probably when I get sick of sleeping in Dracula's lair." They both laughed.

"Hey kiddo, as much as I would love to hang around, I still have work to do. I'll walk you to the door." Dick gave her a sad smile. "I'll see you?" Antianara asked as he led her out of the door. "You will, if you call me before Tim _and_ Barb," Dick replied with a mischievous grin. Antianara couldn't help but laugh. "I promise I'll call you first," she assured him. They were already in the elevator, on their way to the main floor, when she said, "Wait! Have you heard anything about Uncle Clark?" Clark suddenly lost contact with her a few years ago. "Sorry, Ann. I haven't," Dick replied. "Oh," she said dejectedly, "Thanks anyways."

They said their goodbyes, and Antianara hailed another cab to take her back. She watched the landscape of Bludhaven blur as they traveled towards Gotham.

"Wait. I changed my mind. Can you take me here?" Antianara gave the address of a communications company to the driver. She didn't feel like going back to the manor, so she might as well visit Tim. She wondered why she didn't think of visiting him earlier. She began to reminisce. Tim, being the younger adopted son, treated really treated her like little sister. He was somewhat protective of her; he always checked up on her, and he wasn't _happy_ when she told him about her first boyfriend, _or_ the next ones.

Tim had two sons; James Thomas Drake and Christopher Gordon Drake. By now, Jimmy would be 22, and Chris would be 18. She practically grew up with the Drake brothers. They still kept in touch, even when she left for France. She used to visit the Drake household, and play with the boys, while Mrs. Drake would fix lunch for them. She tried to recall the last time she talked to the brothers. Jimmy was hyped up for med school. He always dreamed of becoming a doctor since they were little. Chris just graduated from high school. He has the choice of either attending college in Metropolis or Gotham, and he has his sights set for Metropolis. He always said that Metropolis was the center of journalism. He was complaining that he was having a hard time convincing his parents to allow him to study there. She wished she had those kinds of choices. She wished she was given the choice on whether or not to stay in Gotham, even if she would have chosen to leave. That was what she tells herself.

She finally arrived at the communications company Tim worked for. She walked straight up to the receptionist. "May I speak to Mr. Drake?"

"Mr. Drake? Let's see." She typed something into the computer then said, "Mr. Drake's shift is going to end in five minutes. Do you want to wait for him?" Antianara nodded, and took a seat. Soon enough, Tim walked into the lobby and saw the young girl. "Ann, is that you?" Tim asked as he stepped up to her. She stood up and grinned, "Yes, it's me, Uncle Tim." Tim gestured that they step out to talk, and maybe grab some dinner.

"How's my little sister?" Tim asked, as they walked towards a nearby diner. "Same as always," Antianara said wistfully. He also knew what that meant. "How's the family?" she asked. "Same as always," Tim answered. She elbowed him. "Hey, that's my answer." Tim laughed at her rare childishness. "Exactly."

Tim opened the door for her, and she gave him a quick thank you. They sat on a table next to the window. They ordered their food and resumed their conversation. "What brings you to Gotham, Ann? Last time I checked, your permanent address was in Paris," Tim asked. Antianara shrugged and said, "Honestly, I don't know," before looking through the window, watching cars whiz past, and people walk by.

"You don't have to know," Tim assured her. She looked at him and smiled. Instead of pointing out the probable reasons why she would return to Gotham, Tim just settled for her answer. "Thanks," Antianara whispered. "No problem, Sis." He smiled back.

"I visited Uncle Dick and Aunt Barb too," she added. "That explains why you're so quiet," Tim noted. Antianara laughed. Their food arrived, and they talked about typical things as they ate. They paid the bill, and walked to the company parking lot.

"Do you need a ride, Ann?" Tim offered. Antianara laughed. "Are you _sure_? You _do_ know that I'm staying at the manor?" She knew that Tim and Bruce were not on _good_ terms. Not on good terms was a complete understatement. "What? I just want to make sure my little sister is safe."

"Wait. Don't tell me," Antianara gasped, "Are you afraid that Bruce will scold you for letting your younger sister travel alone at night?" Tim shook his head in amusement. "Just get in the car, Ann."

The ride to Wayne Manor was filled with mild bickering, and joking around. As she stepped out of the car, Tim suggested she visit Jimmy and Chris. "Thanks for the ride, Uncle Tim. I'll visit the boys soon. Say hi to Mrs. Drake for me." She grinned.

She stepped up to the gate and rang the bell. She expected Bruce to start patronizing her through the vidcom, but the gate just swung open. She checked the time as she made her way to the house. It was already 10:30; she told Bruce she would be back by 6, at the latest. She sighed. The old man was going chastise her for staying out too late. She tried to enter the house as quietly as possible, but it was no use; Bruce was obviously waiting for her.

"Do you know what time it is?" Bruce said as he watched her walk in. "I know how to tell _time_," Antianara retorted. Bruce glared at her. Frankly, his scowls and glares didn't work on her; years of experience and bitterness rendered her immune to them. "If you're hungry, there's food on the table," Bruce muttered before walking away to some dark corner of the manor. She expected a barrage of scolding, not dinner.

Antianara didn't know what to feel or say. Did he actually cook? She went into the dining room, and saw a bowl of soup on the table. She took the bowl, walked to the kitchen, and placed it in the refrigerator, when a tear fell on her hand. She wiped it off, content that there was no longer a trace of that tiny droplet of moisture, but another one fell, and then another one.

"Why am I crying?" she asked herself as she frantically wiped her tears away. They just kept coming. She tried to get a hold of herself, but she couldn't. She began to hyperventilate. She quickly made her way to her room, hoping Bruce wouldn't see her present state. She rushed to her bathroom, and drank two sleeping pills. She clutched the sink, struggling to hold her tears back, and control her breathing. She splashed water on her face, and looked at her reflection. Her eyes were red, and tears kept on flowing from them. "S-slag it," she said to herself. She stepped out of her bathroom as she wiped persistent tears from her eyes.

A warm cup of tea was set on her bedside table. She stood there, stunned. Did Bruce see her cry? She shook her head, deciding she didn't care anymore. She slowly walked to the table, and took the cup into her shaking hands, taking a small sip from it. She walked to the window with the cup in hand. She gazed at the moon, occasionally taking a sip of tea, or wiping a tear. She tried to clear her mind of the questions that were plaguing her, and probably even the true answers to those questions. Soon enough, she finished her tea. She finally relaxed. Her sleeping pills were already taking effect, so she crawled into bed, gladly embracing the comforts of her dreamless sleep, because there, her questions didn't follow her.

* * *

Notes:

I always wondered what happened to Dick in Batman Beyond, so I tried researching. But my head hurt, because all the information I could find were based on the comics, and there was a lot of them. Since he moved to Bludhaven, he once became a policeman at day, and Nightwing at night. Eventually, he left Bludhaven for good, left it to Robin and Batgirl, and took up the mantle of Batman. Since we can't have him becoming Batman, I just want to assume that he became the Commissioner.

I know Dick, Barbara, and Tim are all nice and warm here. I just imagine them taking it upon themselves to give Antianara the love they know Bruce could never give, in hopes of her not turning out like them. Tim and Dick are technically Antianara's brothers, but since they are much older than her, I can only picture her calling them Uncle. I also researched about Tim's family and work, but I didn't get much, except the names of his sons and he's a communications engineer.

Antianara knows nothing about Batman. Yet. And Terry shall arrive soon. Mwahahaha….


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the DC Universe

A/N: Special thanks to BatTitan, whose stories served as my inspiration. Thanks for letting me write this! Please check out her stories :)

Chapter 4

Even in the light of day, Wayne Manor was still as dark as night. Only a faint amount of sunlight entered her room. Antianara stared at the ceiling. She didn't want to get out of bed. She didn't want to go downstairs, and risk bumping into Bruce. She wished last night's break down was just a figment of her imagination, but it wasn't. She tried to sleep again, except she found it impossible. Sleep was usually a lost cause for her. She noticed that she was still wearing the same clothes she wore yesterday; she was too preoccupied to change last night. She looked at her watch, and checked the time. It was 6 in the morning. She counted just how many hours she was able to sleep; seven. She groaned. That was the point of drinking two pills, to sleep for at least ten hours. She curled up under the sheets, when there was a knock on the door.

She buried her face in her pillow, and pulled the sheets tighter over herself. She couldn't face Bruce, knowing that he saw her. She hoped that she would hear the sound of retreating steps, but instead she heard his muffled voice saying, "There's breakfast downstairs." She sighed. She waited for him to walk away, before getting out of bed. As much as she wanted to avoid him, she still needed to eat.

Antianara silently made her way downstairs, hoping she would not meet Bruce along the way, even if she had little hope of achieving that. She walked into the kitchen, relieved to find that he wasn't there yet.

She ate as quickly and as quietly as she could. She was halfway done eating, when she heard the sound of footsteps; a noise she did not want to hear. She froze at the sound she dreaded more than the sound of his approach, his voice. "How did you sleep last night?"

She couldn't look at Bruce; she stared at her food. She didn't know what to say; he sounded like he actually cared. She got a hold of herself, and answered, "Sleeping pills. I was diagnosed with chronic insomnia when I was six." He ignored her comment, and took a seat in front of her. He began to eat, as she kept her gaze fixed on the plate before her. She couldn't endure the silence anymore. She stood up, ready to leave, when Bruce stopped her. "Wait."

She sat down, waiting for what he had to say. She still avoided his gaze. "What do you want?" Antianara demanded. Her father's presence triggered all the hate and bitterness she harbored over the years.

"I want to know why you came to Gotham without telling me, and why you called Powers." She sighed. "I don't know." He looked at her questioningly, and said, "You don't know?"

Antianara glared at Bruce despite her earlier apprehension at looking at him. She struggled to restrain her anger, and said, "I honestly have no idea." Bruce looked like he was about to say something when her phone rang. She felt a wave of relief; she had an excuse to get away from him.

She stepped out of the room, and answered her phone before even checking who it was.

"Whoever you are, I am eternally indebted to you."

"Did you miss me that much, small fry?"

"Jimmy? Hey big guy! Why'd you call?"

"Well, I just found out from my old man that you're in town. Why didn't you tell us?"

"It was sort of a spur-of-the-moment trip. I was about to call you guys."

"Whatever you say. Hey, since you're eternally indebted to me, come to the house for old time's sake. It's been like forever since you've been in Gotham. "

"Sure! I'll be there in an hour."

Once Jimmy hung up, she ran upstairs, glad that she found a reason to get out of the house. She got ready as quick as she could, and stepped out of her room, glancing around the halls to see if Bruce was there. To her relief, he wasn't. She practically ran to the door, but his voice stopped her. "Where are you going?"

She sighed. Why couldn't things be easier? She wished he would just let her go with no questions asked, but that would never happen. "I'm going to the Drakes. I'll be back soon." She said as quickly as she could, and went out the door before he could say anything else.

It didn't take long for her to get to the Drake house. The brothers were the only people her age that she actually enjoyed talking to; they were practically family. She knocked on the door, and heard the sound of scrambling footsteps. It swung open, and Chris hugged the life out of her, shouting, "Ann! I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Chris. Chris, let go. I can't breath." He let go right away, and apologized. Jimmy laughed at them and said, "If I didn't know you two, I would've thought you guys have a thing together." Chris blushed, and Antianara shook her head saying. "Whatever you say, big guy. That would never happen. We're like brothers and sisters. Well, sister." The two boys laughed.

It really felt like old times. To her, playing with Jimmy and Chris were the highlights of her childhood; they were probably some of the happiest memories she had. They laughed and talked for the rest of the morning. Their conversations were about the childhood memories they had together, untold stories that were not shared via videophone, and the ominous future. The boys asked her what she wanted to do with her life; she wasn't sure. She just shrugged and said, "Maybe I'll take over the family business, or start my own business. Who knows?"

Mrs. Drake made them lunch just like when they were kids. Antianara was happy in the Drake house. When she was little, she called it her sanctuary. When she was upset, she would force Bruce to find a way to get her there, even if he was the object of her frustration.

The morning and afternoon flashed by in a blur. Like they say, time flies when you're having fun.

"Are you sure you don't want to have dinner here? Dad's going to be home soon," Jimmy asked. "I am tempted to have more of your mom's cooking, but Bruce is not going to be happy if I come home late again," she answered with a playful grin. "Come on, Ann. It's just 6:30! It's not that late," Chris insisted. "Just let her go home you two," Mrs. Drake yelled from the kitchen. "Fine, Mom." Chris sighed. "Tell Uncle Tim I stopped by. I'll see you guys soon, okay?" Antianara said before giving Chris and Jimmy a hug goodbye. "We will. See you soon," Chris promised. "Take care, small fry," Jimmy said as he waved goodbye.

Antianara took another cab back to Wayne Manor. She wondered if she could endure being there for the rest of the summer. She couldn't; maybe she would go back to France in a few days, or maybe even tomorrow. Before she knew it, she was already facing the gates of the manor.

Antianara slowly walked towards the house, knowing Bruce would be inside, waiting. She didn't want to stay in the same room with him, but she had no choice; her stomach was already growling from hunger. She knew she would have to eat dinner with him. She knew he would bombard her with questions she couldn't answer. She sighed as she opened the door. She was right; Bruce was waiting for her. "Dinner's on the table."

They ate in silence. Antianara was mildly surprised that he hadn't spoken a word since she came through the door. On the other hand, Bruce was mildly surprised that she actually came home earlier than he expected.

Antianara ate as fast as she could. The heavy atmosphere in the room was killing her; it was all so awkward. Antianara stood up to leave when Bruce said, "Can we talk? Properly?"

She nodded, and sat back down, trying to conceal her anxiety and unease. Bruce felt awkward as well, but like any other emotion, he was able to completely mask it, but he cannot deny that he hasn't had any proper human interaction in a while. "How have you been?" he asked.

Antianara laughed. Did he just ask her how she was? Bruce glared at her reaction. She stopped laughing, and glared back at him. "Do you want to know how I've been? I've lived in a foreign country for eight years. I spent every single holiday alone. The only way I knew you were still alive was because my tuition was paid."

Bruce looked away. She was angry. She probably hated him. He sighed. That was what he got for pushing her away. "I had my reasons." Antianara laughed bitterly. "Reasons? What reasons? Please, do tell. I would love to know why you sent me away."

Bruce was silent. "I don't want you to be like me," he finally answered. Antianara's eyes widened as she attempted to comprehend what he just said. "What? You didn't want me to end up like you? Bitter and angry at the world? Well I'm sorry Dad, but I guess it didn't work."

She stormed out of the room. She went straight to her bathroom. She reached for her bottle of sleeping pills, but she hesitated opening it. She put it back, washed her face, and changed her clothes. She crawled into bed, hoping that for once, sleep would come naturally. It didn't. She sighed and walked over to the window, watching the far-away lights of Gotham. Her mind drifted to her memories of living in Wayne Manor. She was never afraid of the dark; living there made her perfectly immune to Nyctophobia. Out of boredom, she would roam around the halls when she couldn't sleep. Bruce would always catch her awake, and somehow, get her to bed without taking any pills. She heaved another sigh. "What am I really doing here?" she thought. Then her thoughts went to her behavior towards Bruce. She felt slightly guilty. She has been avoiding him as much as she could, and she hasn't really talked to him properly or politely. She wondered if she should apologize. She laughed at that thought. She felt he deserved it for pushing her away. Then she remembered his "reason". She couldn't understand it. "I don't want you to be like me." She kept replaying it over and over in her head. All she could say was, "Why?"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the DC Universe

A/N: Special thanks to BatTitan, whose stories served as my inspiration. Thanks for letting me write this! Please check out her stories :)

~~ This chapter just seems so.... Wrong. Oh well. :| Enjoy?

Chapter 5

Antianara sighed. She didn't know what she was doing. That was quite unlike her. Even as a child, she was never known to be rash. But for the past few days, she has been doing things without giving it any thought. She walked down the halls to Bruce's room. She was at his door now. She raised her hand to knock, but hesitated. What was she going to do when he opens the door? She didn't know. She sighed, thinking she might as well, and knocked.

She heard footsteps, and the door opened with a creak. She never noticed just how Bruce has changed. He looked so much older; wrinkles lined his face. He didn't have that many wrinkles before. She knew it was only natural, but still she couldn't help feeling wrong. He wasn't using a cane to move around when she lived there. She sighed and looked down. She felt a cocktail of emotions that she couldn't quite name; guilt, melancholy, longing. "What do you want?" he asked. She flinched at the tone of his voice. So that's how it felt. She looked at him, and asked, "Honestly, why did you send me to France?"

"I already told you," he answered. "I don't understand. Was it because you didn't want me?" Antianara had a lot of time trying to figure out why Bruce was always so cold to her, and why he sent her away. Over the years, she formulated her own conclusions. The greatest and most painful one was that she was an unwanted child. "No," he answered quickly. "I already told you why I sent you to France. I won't say it again." She was surprised to feel relieved, but was even more perplexed. She sighed; she would never be able to get a straight answer from him. "Why? I'm your daughter."

Bruce looked away. "Go to sleep." Antianara looked at him like he was an idiot. "I'm an insomniac, remember? I can't just lie down and sleep." She was beginning to get on his nerves. He glared at her saying, "I know that you are an insomniac, Antianara. Do not forget that you lived in this house for the first seven years of your life."

"Yes, probably the worst years of my fifteen year old existence. You should've put me up for adoption," Antianara said coldly. Bruce's glare intensified. "You do not have the slightest idea of what you're talking about."

"Then help me understand! Because to me, "I don't want you to be like me" is just the same as "I don't want you here"," she almost pleaded. Bruce looked away.

Antianara couldn't take it anymore. Years of repressed anger were slipping from her restraint. "You're not the only one who's bitter, old man. My mother died, and my father might as well be." She turned to leave, but Bruce grabbed her wrist.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that," he growled. Antianara rolled her eyes and said, "Now you want to act like my father?" His grip tightened. "I am still your father." Antianara laughed resentfully. "You never acted like it." She wrenched herself from his hold, and walked away.

She froze when she heard a thud.

She whipped around to see Bruce kneeling on the floor, clutching his chest. "Shit," she softly cursed. She ran over to her father. "Where is it?" He weakly pointed to his room, whispering, "Table." Antianara dashed to his bedside table, grabbing his medicine bottle and the glass of water beside it.

She ripped the bottle open, and handed a pill to Bruce, who readily took it. Antianara sat next to him, waiting for the nitroglycerin to work. The pain should have subsided, but it didn't. She cursed under her breath as she rushed Bruce to the hospital.

She was never comfortable with the idea of hospitals. It was all too white and sterilized. She was talking to Bruce's doctor, in the halls outside of his room. "It seems Mr. Wayne hasn't been taking his medication lately. Has he recently been under any kind of stress?" Antianara shifted under the doctor's gaze. She felt solely responsible for what happened to Bruce. "I came back from boarding school without telling him." She sighed. The doctor nodded. "I don't mean to pry Miss Wayne, but how is your relationship with your father? Emotional strain can trigger his condition." Normally, she would've told the doctor to back off, but he was right. She was the reason he's in that hospital room right now. "I already know it's my fault. Just tell me if he's going to be okay."

"Well Miss Wayne, we have to keep your father here for observation. He'll be fine as long as he gets some rest and takes his medicine. He'll be prescribed with a new set of medication, and please try not to aggravate his condition." She nodded; he was right. She should have never infuriated her father. There was no use arguing with the doctor. "Oh, and Miss Wayne, it's late. You should get some sleep," he said, before leaving to do his rounds. She walked back inside, and took her place sitting on a chair next to Bruce's bed.

Antianara watched his slow breathing as he slept. Earlier, she was crying her eyes out, frantically calling Barbara, Dick, and Tim. Naturally, they wouldn't go anywhere near Bruce, but they tried to comfort her through the phone. It took her a while to calm down. The beeps and sounds from the various machines in the room managed to keep her from breaking down. When she looked back at the earlier events that led to the present predicament. She noted that she was emotionally unstable. "I guess my teachers were right," she mumbled as she leaned onto Bruce's bed. She managed to sleep in her awkward position. She was surprised she was even able to sleep at all.

Bruce woke up to find his daughter sleeping on a chair next to him. He was mildly surprised that she was even there. He observed the girl sleeping soundly. It was rare to see her like that; she always had problems sleeping. He began to notice how much she had grown. She was like a carbon copy of Diana; she was beautiful. She didn't know, but it hurt him to send her away. His reasons seem ridiculous to him know, but he would never tell her that. He gently pushed a stray strand of black hair from her face. She stirred. "Daddy?" she mumbled. Aside from being an insomniac, she was a very light sleeper.

Antianara wondered just how long she slept. She must have been completely exhausted; sleep was hard for her. She felt something brush her face. She shot up, remembering where she was, and why she was there. She looked at her father lying on the hospital bed. He was already awake. They both avoided each other's gazes; they didn't know what to say.

"How are you feeling?" Antianara asked to break the unnerving silence. "It's nothing," Bruce answered as he slowly sat up, leaning on the pillows. "The doctor said you weren't taking your medicine," she said after another moment of silence. He snickered; he hated anything related to medication.

Another moment of unsettling silence passed. Antianara sighed. The silence was unbearable. "I'm going back to Paris as soon as you get out of the hospital. I shouldn't even be in Gotham," she murmured as she watched her fidgeting fingers. Bruce looked away. He didn't know how to react. Years without human interaction rendered him inexperienced with such social matters. All he knew was, he shouldn't let her leave. She was his daughter. But would he be able to tell her?

Antianara stood to leave. She couldn't handle the silence. She was almost at the door when Bruce whispered, "Wait." Antianara heard him clearly, despite the near inaudibility of his words. She began to weigh her options. Would she just ignore him, and pretend she didn't hear? Or would she go back and hear what he had to say? She sighed. The old man was her father. She walked back to the chair, and sat down, waiting for him to say something.

Bruce didn't expect her to go back, or even hear him. Antianara waited, but Bruce remained silent.

The questions in her head found the silence opportune time to force her to answer them.

"Ask me why I came back to Gotham," she blurted out. Bruce could not see the reason behind her request, but he did it anyways. "Why did you go back?"

Antianara sighed. She despised herself for having a sudden epiphany. She could have gone back to Paris, and gone on without ever getting out of her personal ocean of denial. She couldn't do anything about it now; what's done is done. "Even if I would like to think I'm an adult already, I'm still a child. I missed Gotham. I missed my h-home. You may not believe it, but I actually missed you." She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She was surprised that the saying, "the truth shall set you free" was actually true. She waited for his reaction.

"What?" Bruce asked in disbelief. Antianara was really the only person who could confuse him. One minute, she hates him; the next, she says she misses him. "Are you bi-polar?" he asked. "Ouch." Antianara didn't expect that kind of reaction.

"I think I should go. It's way past visiting hours anyways," she said as she stood up. "Stay," Bruce muttered before she could leave. Antianara froze.

He would never give her a direct answer to the questions overrunning her thoughts, she knew that all too well. So she asked the most important question. She couldn't even believe what she was going to ask. Maybe he was right; maybe she is bi-polar. "Dad, can I stay in Gotham?" she asked.

"You are bi-polar. I thought you wanted to go back to Paris." Bruce smirked. She was a smart girl. She lived with him for seven years, and she knew him all too well. She probably knew that he would never be able to ask her that, so she asked him. He may not directly say it, but his answer was there.

She held his hand. It was probably the first time they had proper physical contact in eight years. She was surprised when he gently squeezed her hand in return. She laughed. "This is probably the first time you ever showed me even the slightest affection."

"You overestimate my incapability to show emotion. I'm human; I still have emotions," he said bluntly. She shrugged in response. "You're the one who sent me to boarding school thousands of miles from here, without even seeing me off," she said jokingly. "Wait, did you just admit you're incapable of showing any emotion whatsoever?" She looked at him disbelievingly. He looked away, and said, "You should go to sleep," in an attempt to change the subject. She laughed. "I will. Later." For once, Antianara actually felt comfortable spending time with her father. But did that mean that all the pain and resentment she felt would go away?

Bruce was discharged from the hospital two days later. Ever since that incident, Antianara returned to her former task of making sure the old man takes his medication. She moved back into the manor, although there wasn't much to move. She swore to never set foot in Paris ever again, even shuddering at the thought of going back there. She enrolled in Brentwood Academy. Bruce recommended she go there; it was the only private school in Gotham, and it was near Wayne Manor. Antianara may not notice it, but Bruce is an extremely protective father. Their relationship had somewhat improved, but it was not the conventional father-daughter bond. She just settled with his impassive manner of affection, and was in the process of accepting it. She was still bitter from the years of separation, which probably didn't help improve their relationship any further. She found it hard to let go of it. Barb, Tim, and Dick were happy that she decided to stay, even if they could not understand how she managed to live in that house. Each of them offered her to move in with any of them, or rent an apartment, but she politely declined. They were also in the process of accepting her love for the old bat, and they all hoped she would never find out about their "Glory Days" whilst inside Wayne Manor.

* * *

Notes:

I just found a map of Gotham. Brentwood Academy is so near Wayne Manor, and so was the Drake household. Since this is Neo-Gotham, I assume that a lot has changed. I tried researching about the academy, but all I found was that Tim went there for a while, and it was an upscale private school.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the DC Universe

A/N: Special thanks to BatTitan, whose stories served as my inspiration. Thanks for letting me write this! Please check out her stories :)

Chapter 6

It was supposedly another normal night. Antianara was driving down the freeway, on her way home from a friend's house. Bruce had finally let her use the car. Most of her friends were comprised of the children, or even grandchildren, of the board members and top dogs of Wayne-Powers. She knew it was because of her _father_. Surprisingly, she didn't seem to mind.

It was somewhat past her curfew, but she didn't care; Bruce _always_ knew where she was. She suspects that he planted a locator chip on her, but she doesn't bother to take it off, _or _look for it. She believes it would keep the old man from worrying too much.

As she was nearing Gotham Harbor, a group of Jokerz zoomed past her. They seemed to be running away from something. She just avoided them, paying them no notice; they were a normal sight in Gotham. Within a few minutes, she was at the gates of Wayne Manor.

The gate was open. That was a bad sign.

She sped up the driveway, as different dreadful scenarios flashed through her head. She didn't think; she just moved. She rushed out of the car, and ran to the front door where Ace seemed to be growling at someone behind it. She opened it, and found a teenage boy around her age. Even if he was, well, physically pleasing, he was _still_ a trespasser. Antianara did as her instincts directed her. She punched him in the face, and pinned him to the ground, making sure he wouldn't be able to move or escape. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

The boy didn't even know what hit him; it took him a few seconds to process what just happened. "I was just helping Mr. Wayne! He helped me fight off a bunch of Jokerz," he answered quickly, annoyed by the uncomfortable position he was in. Antianara glanced at the living room where she could faintly see the outline of Bruce unconscious on a chair. She shoved the boy's head to the floor; the only reaction she saw fit. "What did you do to my father?" she said heatedly to his ear.

The boy was beginning to lose his cool. She wouldn't believe him, and having a girl bring you to the ground and straddle you was making things worse. "I already told you! I helped Mr. Wayne get his medicine!" She still wouldn't believe him; she pushed his head harder to the ground. "Well then, where was the medicine bottle?" she asked contemptuously. He sighed and bluntly stated, "Orange bottle, white cover, on his desk in his bedroom. Fourth door on the left, right stairs."

Antianara eyes widened, realizing was right. She let him go, and stood up. She offered her hand to help him up, but he politely declined. He got to his feet, brushing the dust off his pants. There was a cut on his lip. She felt somewhat guilty for hurting the boy who had just helped her father.

"Well, this is awkward. Sorry about your lip. I'm so sorry. You see, my dog was growling at you, and the gate was open, and my da-" The boy cut her off saying, "It's okay, and for a girl, you throw a mean punch," as he gently rubbed his jaw. She vaguely wondered if that was a compliment.

"Sorry. Uhm. Thank you –" Antianara came up short; she didn't know his name. "What's your name?" she asked. "Terry. Terry McGuiness," he said as he held his hand out. "Antianara Wayne," she said as she shook it. "Well that's a mouthful," he remarked. "Yeah, I know McGuiness. I get that a lot. People just call me Ann," she said with a tiny smirk on her face and a shrug.

A faint squeaking sound echoed through the halls, interrupting Terry who was about to say something. "Do you hear that McGuiness?" Antianara asked. "Yeah. Where is it coming from?" Terry replied. "Follow me," she gestured as she searched for the source of the noise.

Antianara glanced at the living room, where Bruce was still asleep, before entering his study, where the sound seemed to be coming from. There was a bat trapped in the grandfather clock. "A bat?" Terry whispered. Bats are common around the manor; the only unusual thing about this bat was _where_ it was trapped. "How'd it get in here?" Antianara said as she inspected the clock. Terry was attempting to free the bat, saying, "I'll get you out of there, just don't bite me." Antianara joined in, then the grandfather clock swung open, revealing a flight of stairs that seemed to lead to a cave.

"Huh?" Terry exclaimed in surprise. "And I thought I knew this place inside out," Antianara muttered to herself. "Come on Wayne, let's check it out," Terry beckoned.

Terry went down the unfamiliar passageway, as Antianara followed closely behind him. He flipped a few switches on the wall. Spotlights lit up, illuminating parts of the vast cave. "Woaw," Terry whispered in amazement. Antianara was speechless. Exactly what were these things? How long have they been there? Were these really _Bruce's_?

Terry jumped down the remaining steps. A display case wheezed to life, and he was startled by the noise, ready to punch whatever it was. Antianara laughed at his edginess, as she calmly walked up to the encased suit. It was black, with pointy ears, and it had a red bat on its chest. Beside it were four other similar suits. They both saw enough history cubes to know to whom those suits belonged to. "Why am I not surprised?" was all she could say.

Terry walked up to the last one, and said, "Geez. No wonder he could fight." He was about to touch it, when he suddenly fell to the ground. Antianara whipped around to see Bruce looming ominously over the poor boy. He must've beat Terry with his cane. "Get out," Bruce growled.

Terry stumbled out of the cave, with a growling Ace pushing him out. "As for you," Bruce grimly stated as he turned to his daughter, "You shouldn't be here. _Get out_." Antianara nonchalantly leaned on one of the glass cases in response, saying, "How are you feeling? I heard from that twip you just kicked out, that he helped you get your medicine."

"Antianara, your language, and _do not_ change the subject. I told you to _leave_." Bruce glared at her. He hoped she would just leave with no protest, but he knew that was impossible. "You should learn by now that that alone won't make me. Discovering this place explains _so much _about you, _Dad_. Somehow, I'm not surprised you _are_ Batman." She looked Bruce in the eye, and smiled. She just found it so amusing how her father really _is_ Batman. He acted so much like it.

"I _was_ Batman. Leave. _Now_." Antianara raised a brow at his remark, as questions flew into her head. He could just see the questions brewing in her head. Now nothing would get her to leave without answers.

"Then I assume Batgirl was…. Aunt Barb? Night Wing was…. Uncle Dick? And Uncle Tim was probably Robin." Who else would they be? She is very perceptive; finding out this part of their lives helped her understand so much about them. She knew quite a lot about Batman. Bruce remained silent. She took his silence as affirmation.

"You know, I was _so_ fascinated by the Bat clan, _especially_ Batman. I've seen hundreds of history cubes about them when I was in boarding school," she said distractedly as she examined the suits before her. The suits, and the people who donned them, were instrumental pieces of Gotham. They protected its citizens from the evil lurking within its winding streets and towering skyscrapers. She knew that very well. Gotham _is_ her hometown.

"Just _leave_, Antianara." Antianara still didn't move from her place. The tone of Bruce's voice and his menacing glares didn't faze her in the least, but she still considered obeying her father. However, she couldn't bring herself to do it. She had questions that were in dire need of answers.

She dared to further aggravate his anger. They _never_ talked about her mother; it was a sensitive topic. So was most of Bruce's past. "How long has it been, and did my mother even know about _this_?" she asked as she turned to look at her father. She expected him to chase her out of the cave. Anything. "It's been 20 years, and yes, your mother knew. She knew me as Batman, not Bruce Wayne," he quietly stated. He didn't seem angry. He just answered her question. She was surprised that for once, it seemed _easy_ for him to answer her questions. She wondered if it was because of the pills he took just a few minutes ago.

Antianara stood there somewhat stunned by how much Bruce told her; he never told her _anything_. It took her a few seconds to process what he just said. 20 years, meaning he "retired" a few years before she was born. If her mother knew him as Batman, then could her mother be a –?

Bruce observed Antianara's reaction. Even he was surprised at how much he told her. He deemed that it was time she knew. It was better that he said it, instead of Kent telling her. Antianara's features twisted into surprise, deep thought, then confusion. Her brows furrowed, as he anticipated another inevitable question from her.

"My mother knew? _Who is she_?" she whispered, as she collected her thoughts, and laid her beseeching eyes unto him. "Do you know about the Justice League?" he asked. Antianara nodded, staring at her father, not knowing what to expect.

Bruce sighed. "Search the computer. Your mother was Wonder Woman," he said before going back up to the manor, leaving Antianara to find the answers she has long been searching for.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the DC Universe

A/N: Special thanks to BatTitan, whose stories served as my inspiration. Thanks for letting me write this! Please check out her stories :)

Chapter 7

Warning: I think it's full of fluff.

It really pays to be a genius. It didn't take long for Antianara to find the information she was looking for, but it took her a while to get a hold of herself. Her mother was Wonder Woman.

"Diana Prince a.k.a. Wonder Woman. Deceased."

They were right. She did look just like her mother. Antianara stared at her mother's pictures; there were hundreds of them in the computer. It was just like looking at a mirror, except for a few slight differences. She looked longingly at a few of them, before she finally got herself to read her mother's file. She couldn't quite believe what was written. Her mother came across as a mythological figure.

"Born on Themiscyra. Molded from clay by Queen Hyppolita, and was brought to life by the gods. The gods bestowed her with the powers of flight, superior strength, and speed. Educated in the arts of rhetoric, combat, religion, philosophy, and in all other forms of knowledge that the Amazons held in high regard. Possesses enhanced gauntlets that symbolize the time when men enslaved the Amazons. They have been known to be indestructible, or nearly so. Also possesses the Lasso of Truth; an indestructible gold lasso forged by Hephaestus from the Golden Girdle of Gaea. It can force anyone it captures to obey and tell the truth."

Her mother seemed more distant than ever. Her mother had powers, she was born on an island hidden in the Bermuda Triangle, and she was a super hero. Her mother was Wonder Woman. That kind of information was hard to swallow. Somehow, it was even harder to grasp than her father being Batman. Maybe it was because she never truly knew her. Her mother was basically a stranger to her.

There was _so_ much information about her mother. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands, of her mission reports, and random facts about her. She skimmed through them. Then she saw the words cause of death.

"2 months after giving birth, she died on the island of Themiscyra due to numerous injuries obtained during battle. Civil war broke out due to her return from banishment, and her ascension to the Amazonian throne. The gods revoked her powers due to the war she incited, and destroyed what was left of post-war Themiscyra."

She let out a deep sigh. She leaned back on the chair, and closed her eyes, massaging her temples. She wondered if she was beginning to regret knowing about her mother. "No, it's better this way," she assured herself. It's better she knew.

She sighed once more, and went back to reading the rest of her mother's file. After a few minutes, she couldn't bring herself to read any more. She couldn't express what she was feeling. She couldn't even name the emotions she was experiencing; she always had difficulties with that. Was she longing for her mother? Was she depressed? She didn't know. Her emotions were a cocktail of feelings.

However, knowing about her mother somewhat gave her a sense of fullness. Even if she couldn't comprehend whether she was happy or sad, it still felt like some void in her life was filled.

Now, she knew. She knew about her mother. She knew about her father.

She began to absentmindedly browse through the information on the computer. She stumbled across an archive of security tapes stored in the hard drive. She was mildly surprised at some of the dates of those videos; they were at least twice her age. She played a random one that was probably taken when she was just a few months old.

The screen showed the living room. She fast-forwarded most of it until she saw a Bruce walk in with a baby in his arms, which was probably _her_. He sat in a chair, cradling her. She glanced at the time the video was taken; she assumed he was trying to get her to sleep. Even as a baby, it was hard for her to sleep. It was probably the bat in her.

Wait, was he _humming_? She blinked, not believing her eyes. She zoomed in on her father.

It was such a serene scene. Bruce was smiling down at her. She was even holding his finger with one of her tiny hands. She stared at the screen, not knowing how to react to what she was witnessing. If a stranger were to see that video, the heart-warming scene of a father holding his baby would touch them, but Antianara wasn't just _any_ person; she was the baby Bruce was holding.

"If you keep your mouth open like that, you might choke on a bug." Bruce voice seemed like it came out of nowhere. Antianara was startled by his sudden reappearance. She didn't hear Bruce enter the cave. "I was just… surprised," she remarked at a loss for words. She hastily switched off the computer. "_Surprised_?" he asked mockingly. "Yes, I _was_ surprised. You looked like you cared. _A lot,_" she said, and then laughed at her nonsense as she stood from the chair. "What made you say that" Bruce asked. Antianara may be smart, but she is apparently blind to what was right in front of her. She was _his_ daughter; he did care, and he always will. "Never mind what I said," she answered.

They both quietly exited the cave, not uttering a word until they entered the manor. "Did you find what you were looking for?" Bruce asked as he closed the grandfather clock. Antianara nodded. "Thanks, Dad." She was sincerely grateful.

As they went up the stairs that led to their rooms, Antianara yawned; she was surprised at how tired she was. "Well that's a rare sight," Bruce pointed out. She smirked. "It's been a long day. Plus, I knocked McGuiness to the ground." She giggled quietly, remembering the teenage boy who complimented her right hook. "That explains the cut on his lip," Bruce said with a barely noticeable smirk on his face. Antianara saw it despite the dim lighting.

"Did you just smile?" she asked, looking at him disbelievingly. He outright denied, "_No_." She just laughed, knowing he would never admit it.

Antianara was about to open her bedroom door. "Dad?" Bruce was on his way to his room. He stopped mid-step, and faced his daughter, waiting for what she had to say.

"Good night, Dad," she said, smiling at him, before she entered her room. Bruce was surprised at her rare warmth. "Good night," he whispered, as soon as she shut the door.


End file.
